ocean eyes || c.evans

xiii.

author's note: the quote that is bolded in this part is a direct quote from chadwick boseman. as a south african, he, and his portrayal of the black panther, meant the world to me. i very briefly considered making the gala in this part be held in his honour, but i felt it might be insensitive, especially with everything else effectively overshadowing it. so i just included the quote as a little ode to him. rest well, king.

If scientists were ever to turn their dissecting gaze to the the phenomenon of The Third Wheel, you would be a prime specimen candidate for study.

Because in that week she stayed, your status was relegated to just that: a third wheel.

The tabloids had fun with that, too. You were becoming a national treasure of a meme. You'd even seen yourself on Twitter the other day, the caption reading "my friends vs me" attached to some sneakily taken paparazzi picture of you reading a book under a tree in the park while looking every bit as stone-faced and disinterested while Chris and Lily could barely keep their hands off each other.

In every photo that followed, it was the same. If you wanted to keep someone distracted for hours, ask them to pore over every single newly published photo of Lily and Chris, and try and find a single one where they weren't touching eachother.

They'd come up empty, because it was a waste of time. Overnight, Chrily had become the new celebrity couple of the moment.

And you'd become the patron saint of third wheels everywhere.

It wasn't like you'd forced yourself on the couple, begging to go out with them. If anything, you would've much rather been in Tibet, if not the furthest geographical location away from them and their canoodling.

But the thing about Lily was that she was so damned nice, that whenever you declined their offer, she would insist until you said yes.

The newest picture on your feed, retweeted lovingly by your friends and apparently thirty thousand people worldwide, was of you, mid-eyeroll, mouth stuffed with pizza while Chris and Lily cuddled next to you at the restaurant you had gone to earlier that week for lunch, gazing lovingly into each other's eyes. The caption was the forever classic "mood."

You tried not to groan. It wasn't particularly flattering, and definitely not dignified having so many people watch you endure this.

At least the paps couldn't follow you into the house, because that was where the real magic happened. Many a night you would wait patiently for Chrily to stop whatever it was they were doing on the couch and take it back to the bedroom before you'd sneak into the kitchen, trying to stealthily drown your sorrows in Hagen Dasz.

Because once they'd take it to the bedroom... needless to say, Dodger had become a regular bunk mate of yours, and the bathroom doors remained firmly shut with music blasting on your earphones.

There were different kinds of sadness rejection could leave you with. There was the immobilizing kind, the kind that would leave you bed bound and catatonic, purely unable to move.

And then there was what you were experiencing. The kind that had you dragging yourself out of the house at any possible spare moment, just to not be in close quarters with them, but also to not be alone with your thoughts.

So that was why, when Chris found you, you were outside, sunbathing by the pool, while Dodger pranced through the sprinklers in the large lawn beside you.